Mark my words, young people of the world: You will not always have disposable income to throw at apparel. It doesn't matter who you are, what you do, where you stay, how much you make, how carefully you manage your affairs or how reasonable your spending is. There will come a time when you don't have much money to spend on clothes. Maybe you'll fall on hard times. Maybe you'll have other responsibilities or decide to shift your priorities. It will happen. Fate will find a way to get you there.
That's where I'm at now. The circumstances of it are none of your business. All you need to know is that, with spring and summer approaching, I'm in no position to overhaul my wardrobe for the coming season. And I think I might be okay with that.
This isn't one of those how-to explainers that stresses versatile, year-round garments. I spent the winter stocking up on clothes that make no sense in any temperature over 55 degrees. It seemed like a good idea at the time because I was freezing to death and the cardinal rule of cozy is that you load up on layers lest you end up out in the world one morning wearing food-stained sweats and a shapeless coat.
The only problem is that this sets up a precedent: For every season, a new tide of clothes must rise. It's a convenient excuse to shop like an unchained hound, but it's also fucking expensive. Necessity is the mother of all waste. Ask your local toilet about that one.
From a dress thyself standpoint, what I did was smart. Now, though, I'm experiencing the equal and opposite reaction and it scares me. Surveying my Spring/Summer options, I've got a bunch of stuff that I'm really sick of because when it's hot I get lazy and sometimes wear the same thing for days on end.
But here's the part where I blow your fucking mind by bringing in another strain of clothes-buying thought: We don't just pay too much for this stuff because spending money is fun or because brand status is part and parcel with sticker price. In theory, a lot of what we covet is also exceptionally well-made and built to last. It's like the olden days, where a man would spend several months worth of his earnings on a suit and then have it for his whole life.
All style advice is a life lesson because life is style and style is life and lifestyle and all that. I think.
I'm not saying I'd go to that extreme, but, at some point, I'm looking at my closet and seeing things that were built (and therefore bought) to last. If I'm not content to keep a shirt on my radar for a couple of years, why pay the extra money for quality?
I get that this is an intensely conservative approach to fashion, if you even want to call it that. Your typical Four Pins reader is always looking for that new shit, which is how the Internet works and why you have to read this site every single day. For some of you, it's probably unthinkable that you'd give last year's gear a second time chance. Too much has changed. You've changed. We may not even be the same country we were in 2014.
Admittedly, this is easier for me because I'm old and wear a lot of basics and other boring shit like that. The fact remains, though, that I can and should cope with this enormous life setback. And I'm realizing that, without even meaning to, I might have set myself up for success. The downside of buying clothes is that you get in the habit of buying clothes. Presumably, the upside is that if you stop, you should have quite an arsenal to fall back on, even if it requires one season of drought.
So, take it from me, youngblood, when it happens to you, everything will be okay. You'll have to accept it because, sometimes, you don't have a choice. And when that time comes, you can either accept defeat and feel sorry for yourself or embrace the situation. Who cares if you're stuck with clothes you're sick of looking at? If you liked them once, why not reconnect with them for another few months?
If they're so played out that this is impossible, I feel sorry for you and maybe there's an important life lesson for you to learn. Actually, scratch that, it's a lesson about the fleeting nature of style and the need to find some solid ground that might last past this month. Okay fine, that is a life lesson. All style advice is a life lesson because life is style and style is life and lifestyle and all that. I think.
Listen, do I regret going all in on Fall/Winter when I could've been more sensible? Of course I do. I'm not a fucking idiot. But then I might have ended up wearing the exact same shit all year. I'd rather spend a few months revisiting the past and discovering timeless truth in fabric. I had some fun. I made some less-than-responsible choices. And now I'm paying the price. If there's a lesson there it's that the best bad decisions are also insurance against themselves.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to convince myself that wearing all this stuff isn't just going to prompt a huge flashback to things I don't want to remember. But that's a story for a different day.
Bethlehem Shoals is a writer living in Portland. You can follow him on Twitter here.
